As of today, I will not be using my arms anymore, not unnecessarily anyways. *sigh* (my friend Crystal is typing this post) I have a few more hours til nightfall, so I can actually drive myself home, bring a book to a friend, umm.., return money to another friend (who actually paid for my wrist splint) and eat my meal without being fed.
I HATE CARPAL TUNNEL SYNDROME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Complaints aside, what is God teaching me through this? Do I actually need more pain in my life? Hmm, maybe I do. First, my right arm was gone, then my left arm decided to follow suit. Great. One of the things about pain and suffering is that the more you get it, the more you get used to it. It's a sick way of being positive but I guess compared to the pain and suffering that Jesus went through, what I have is peanuts (not that I want more...)
So I walked through the bookstore today and the horrible thought struck me, "What if I permanently stay this way? I would be totally dependant on someone else to drive me around, type out my thoughts, open the car door for me... AARRGGHHHHH
*Another sigh* So I read all these books on pain. On suffering. Our humanness. But to go through it is another thing altogether. And it would help if it doesn't hurt that much to hold up a book to read either. Always told God that He had better take me home than to allow me to remain on earth as a vegetable. But I guess I shouldn't be dictating the scene of my martyrdom, huh?
Being incapacitated on both arms, although not entirely, is a new experience and a new kind of imprisonment. Seeing how much I value freedom, this has got to be the lowest of the lowest pit. Ugh. But God has a plan, God has a plan. Maybe this is a time for me to rest. Not just physically, but to really slow down in every area of my life and wait. And ponder.
*Sigh*
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Retirement Town?
Maybe. It's a great place to spend an undisturbed quiet weekend, but not terribly thrilling for city slickers used to nocturnal excitement and bright lights. Sleepy town of Bagan Dato, Perak, West Malaysia.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Pain and Suffering
The thing about being disabled is that beyond the frustration, pain and inconveniences, one learns to adapt. Whether it is a temporary setback or a permanent condition, the adaptation curve of course, largely depends on one's attitude.
My friend's wife suffered a series of minor strokes last week. She had platlet complications as well as diabetes and high blood pressure. We prayed in the face of a very scary situation. She bounced back, and will be discharged from hospital in a couple more days. She lost motor funtion on her left body though, and will have to go through extended periods of physiotherapy.
I have lost the full use of my right arm for close to 3 weeks. First it was frozen, and when it thawed out it hurt when I moved my wrist. Practically lost my ability to grip. People prayed for me too, but my condition seemingly got worse. I figured this was the "forced rest" that my body needed, although my brain keeps psycho-ing it to push the limits just a little bit more.
Adapting to a disablement is never easy, even when it is not serious. Frustration and anger may be initial responses as nerves and tendons gang up on you, especially with looming deadlines and gazillion other things to do. Stressful.
Then acceptance dawns. That one is not immortal after all, that one day (nearer now than before) we all die and what remains is how we have lived - either for ourselves or for God. Then you start to look at people in a different light. You see beauty in places you've never really appreciated them before - in a deformed child, in a badly-burnt victim, in a multiple sclerosis patient. No, you don't just see beauty in them, you identify with them. For a moment, you actually know how it feels to live in an imperfect body.
Does it take pain and suffering to open our eyes? And our hearts? Granted, pain and suffering mean different things to different people, but one thing binds us all in common. We flee from suffering like it is the plague.
It would take longer for my friend's wife to recover than it would for me. For that, I am thankful. But more so for the fact that I've had the chance to partake of this side of humanity that is (understatedly) unpopular and shunned, that many obhor and avoid. And was able do it because Jesus had gone ahead of me.
My friend's wife suffered a series of minor strokes last week. She had platlet complications as well as diabetes and high blood pressure. We prayed in the face of a very scary situation. She bounced back, and will be discharged from hospital in a couple more days. She lost motor funtion on her left body though, and will have to go through extended periods of physiotherapy.
I have lost the full use of my right arm for close to 3 weeks. First it was frozen, and when it thawed out it hurt when I moved my wrist. Practically lost my ability to grip. People prayed for me too, but my condition seemingly got worse. I figured this was the "forced rest" that my body needed, although my brain keeps psycho-ing it to push the limits just a little bit more.
Adapting to a disablement is never easy, even when it is not serious. Frustration and anger may be initial responses as nerves and tendons gang up on you, especially with looming deadlines and gazillion other things to do. Stressful.
Then acceptance dawns. That one is not immortal after all, that one day (nearer now than before) we all die and what remains is how we have lived - either for ourselves or for God. Then you start to look at people in a different light. You see beauty in places you've never really appreciated them before - in a deformed child, in a badly-burnt victim, in a multiple sclerosis patient. No, you don't just see beauty in them, you identify with them. For a moment, you actually know how it feels to live in an imperfect body.
Does it take pain and suffering to open our eyes? And our hearts? Granted, pain and suffering mean different things to different people, but one thing binds us all in common. We flee from suffering like it is the plague.
It would take longer for my friend's wife to recover than it would for me. For that, I am thankful. But more so for the fact that I've had the chance to partake of this side of humanity that is (understatedly) unpopular and shunned, that many obhor and avoid. And was able do it because Jesus had gone ahead of me.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
School's Out!
Two village girls taking a breather from playing. Its the school holidays and their parents are at work. No better time to get into mischief...
Wisdom
As Os Guinness puts it:
As we get older, our reflexes are slower and our powers of retention smaller, and we certainly have no more idea now of what the future may hold. But a large part of wisdom comes from the accumulated experience of knowing what the future will not hold, and that vital wisdom increases as we get older. In other words, comprehension and wisdom improve even as memory falters. Wisdom is a matter of the quality of what we know, not the quantity.
--- (Prophetic Timeliness - A Challenge to the Idol of Relevance)
How comforting.
As we get older, our reflexes are slower and our powers of retention smaller, and we certainly have no more idea now of what the future may hold. But a large part of wisdom comes from the accumulated experience of knowing what the future will not hold, and that vital wisdom increases as we get older. In other words, comprehension and wisdom improve even as memory falters. Wisdom is a matter of the quality of what we know, not the quantity.
--- (Prophetic Timeliness - A Challenge to the Idol of Relevance)
How comforting.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Seat With A View
Grand view but you need to fit in here
And be constantly excited by the sight of raw food
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Starting Young
Rising From Mud
He Cares
Finished studying the book of Ruth this week. Good exegesis, but personally I found it bordering on the stuff romance books are made of... you know, widowed woman who "just so happened" to glean at elibigle bachelor's field, caught his attention, found out he was a kinsman-redeemer (a relative who in ancient Israel was responsible for the welfare of his relatives), hatched a plan to propose and eventually married him. Ahem.
In a nutshell, that's how God providentially cares for his people (in this case Ruth, as a foreigner, didn't even qualify). But He cared nevertheless. Makes me think of how His grace had worked and provided for my life, even at times when I didn't acknowledge or wanted Him to be around.
I do see Him around, though. In many instances in my life. One of them is during dinner. Mealtimes can tell you a lot about a family. I never really had that chance while growing up coz our family stayed apart - I was at the babysitter's, my brother with granny, dad was away for very long periods and my mom worked till late. Oh, we had meals together during festive seasons, and even that felt wierd. Made me long for my companion the tv (or books) instead.
But a strange (and wonderful) thing happened 2 years ago. My brother and his small family moved back with my parents and we started to have meals together, every night. In the beginning it was surreal. Here we are, all grown up and doing things we didn't get to enjoy while we were kids. Of course it was awkward at first, conversations were stilted and uncomfortable, but after two years, this practice slowly crept into our lives and took root.
Now conversation flows freely (most times), and dinnertime has become the most important part of the day where everyone pauses to thank God for His blessings. God is honoured at the dinner table. Guests who eat with us are are often blessed, even as it is our privilege to have them.
What a contrast! In the place of swearing, yelling and violence, we now have peace, kinship and care. Our family is the first amongst both maternal and paternal clans to experience this kind of goodness. My take? God's invisible hand has been working behind the scenes all these while after all...
In a nutshell, that's how God providentially cares for his people (in this case Ruth, as a foreigner, didn't even qualify). But He cared nevertheless. Makes me think of how His grace had worked and provided for my life, even at times when I didn't acknowledge or wanted Him to be around.
I do see Him around, though. In many instances in my life. One of them is during dinner. Mealtimes can tell you a lot about a family. I never really had that chance while growing up coz our family stayed apart - I was at the babysitter's, my brother with granny, dad was away for very long periods and my mom worked till late. Oh, we had meals together during festive seasons, and even that felt wierd. Made me long for my companion the tv (or books) instead.
But a strange (and wonderful) thing happened 2 years ago. My brother and his small family moved back with my parents and we started to have meals together, every night. In the beginning it was surreal. Here we are, all grown up and doing things we didn't get to enjoy while we were kids. Of course it was awkward at first, conversations were stilted and uncomfortable, but after two years, this practice slowly crept into our lives and took root.
Now conversation flows freely (most times), and dinnertime has become the most important part of the day where everyone pauses to thank God for His blessings. God is honoured at the dinner table. Guests who eat with us are are often blessed, even as it is our privilege to have them.
What a contrast! In the place of swearing, yelling and violence, we now have peace, kinship and care. Our family is the first amongst both maternal and paternal clans to experience this kind of goodness. My take? God's invisible hand has been working behind the scenes all these while after all...
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